


playing havoc with my hell

by Lire_Casander



Series: tryna find any truth in between the lies (the Roswell New Mexico Week 2019) [5]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, M/M, Mentions of past psychological abuse, Panic Attacks, mentions of dub/con, rnmweek19, roswellweek19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: always be holding on to something borrowed





	1. a breath removed from going to waste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InsidiousIntent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsidiousIntent/gifts).



> Title and summary from _Something Borrowed_ by Lewis Capaldi. It belongs to the _**tryna find any truth in between the lies (the Roswell New Mexico Week 2019)**_ series, whose title also belongs to the same song. 
> 
> This is written for the [Roswell New Mexico Week](https://roswellnewmexicoweek.tumblr.com/post/184757488673/welcome-to-roswell-new-mexico-week-2019-each-day) over at tumblr. 
> 
> Anything you recognize is not mine, although any and every mistake is my own. Beta-read by the amazing [estel_willow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow).
> 
> Inspired by _I’ll Never Break Your Heart_ by Backstreet Boys, for [InsidiousIntent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsidiousIntent) who asked for _Michael pursuing a shy!Alex_. I’m not sure this is what you had in mind, but it’s what’s come out. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _don't wanna let the pieces fall out of place_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and summary from _Grace_ by Lewis Capaldi. 
> 
> This is written for the [Roswell New Mexico Week](https://roswellnewmexicoweek.tumblr.com/post/184757488673/welcome-to-roswell-new-mexico-week-2019-each-day) over at tumblr, **_Day 5: Freaky Friday (AUs)_**. Again, I have taken several liberties with the prompt.

When Michael enters the bar, the heat hits him like a punch in the face. He breathes deeply, allowing himself a second to focus before searching the space for the group he’s come to meet. Even before landing eyes on Isobel, he’s already regretting not having made up any excuse to stay at home tonight – he should have told her he was tired, or invented an exam early the next morning, or faked a headache. Maybe he can get out of this nonsense if he convinces Isobel that he doesn’t feel all that great – after all, it’s been a long week at the Institute and his students have been more dense than usual. He walks all the way into the bar, eyes searching the crowd until he sees Isobel energetically waving at him from the far end. 

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees who’s sitting at the booth with her, and he understands the reason behind her insistence in them meeting up on a Thursday in a bar full of college students.

“Max!” he exclaims as he approaches the table, his idea of getting out of the bar promptly forgotten. “I didn’t know you were coming! How long are you staying?” he asks as he hauls the other man into a brotherly embrace.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Isobel quips from her spot at the table, looking smug.

“We’re staying the whole weekend,” Max explains. Michael frowns for a second – there are only the three of them right now hovering over the table, and Isobel’s already living in Boston while she attends some Tufts courses this semester. 

“Has Liz come up with you?” Michael can’t help the grin spreading on his face when he thinks of Max’s girlfriend. They got along ever since the first time they met, back when they all were fourteen and Michael had been visiting Roswell for the summer; Michael remembers the days spent at the diner her family ran, comparing grades and daring each other to be better; he remembers coming back to Albuquerque to his adoptive parents and asking Hank to get enrolled in AP courses so his chances to outrank Liz could be higher. Over the years, their relationship has evolved and Michael can call her his best friend without blushing.

“She’s out to pick up one of her closest friends, Iʼm pretty sure you'll recognize him when they enter,” Max nods mysteriously. “He’s also around Boston and Liz wanted him to come tonight.”

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your surprise visit?” Michael asks, flopping down beside Isobel. He signals one of the waitresses and orders a beer while Max sits down too and fidgets a bit. “You’re not here to tell us you knocked Liz up, are you?” he teases.

“Michael!” Max protests, feigning being scandalized while Isobel simply huffs by his side. “Can’t a man want to visit his siblings?”

“Out of the blue?” Isobel pops in, sipping from her Cosmopolitan. “Ugh, Michael, can’t you be a bit _fancier_ and order something else?” she keeps on when the waitress settles a beer in front of Michael.

“You mean, like you?” Michael picks up the bottle and takes a long sip. “I was thirsty,” he continues with a devilish grin.

“Mikey!” he hears at his back, over the rising noises in the bar, and he turns around to face Max’s girlfriend with his arms wide open so she can fall into a hug.

Liz Ortecho hasn’t changed much in the few months since they last saw each other, Michael notices. Her black hair is a bit longer, but there’s the same gleam in her dark eyes and her smile still speaks of a gentle soul. She hugs him fiercely, lingering for a tad too long before patting his shoulder lovingly and letting go. “It’s been a while, Guerin,” she greets him playfully. “You don’t even come back home anymore.”

“You know how it goes, Ortecho,” he replies, fingers already back tapping at the table, smile betraying the coolness in his voice. “Too much fun up here for me to come back to lil’ ol’ Roswell.”

Liz laughs heartily, and motions for someone at her back to step up. “Do you guys remember Alex Manes?” she says as a man steps out of the shadows in the bar, stance uptight and closed off. Max and Isobel promptly stand up to greet the new comer, while Michael remains in his seat for a long moment, taking in the sight in front of him.

His memory of Alex Manes from when they were all younger and more carefree doesn’t hold up to the man now shuffling his weight awkwardly under Isobel’s tight embrace and Max’s half hug. Long gone are the piercings and the black nail polish, Michael notices, as well as the spiked hair and the rings in his fingers as they curl around Liz’s arm for balance when he finally sits down beside Michael. This Alex Manes is dressed in tight jeans and a plain light blue shirt underneath a leather jacket, hair shorter than Michael remembered, and his eyes – the sad look in Alex’s eyes will haunt Michael for a long time.

“Michael?” Isobel prods at him. “It’s bad manners to just stare.”

“I’m sorry,” he shakes himself out of his haze. For a second neither of them knows what to do, eye to eye and facing the ten years since they last saw each other – a decade of wondering what happened to Alex after the tender days they shared that last summer, the kisses and the promises that vanished in the hot New Mexican air – until Michael inhales deeply, centering himself outside of the memories, and stretches out a hand across the table where Alex is nervously looking back at him. “Fancy meeting you here, Manes,” Michael smiles warmly. Alex reaches out as well and grabs Michael’s hand in a firm grip.

If Michael’s fingers itch to linger around Alex’s palm, no one notices.

“It’s been a long time, Guerin,” Alex greets back, withdrawing his hand just as quick as he’s grabbed him. “Do you _all_ live around here? In Boston?” There’s a hint of curiosity mixed with something Michael can’t grasp in Alex’s words, so he decides to humor him.

“I’m teaching at MIT,” Michael explains simply, his fingers once again around the bottle. “Been doing that for a couple of years now. Isobel’s studying again at Tufts,” he continues when it’s crystal clear that she isn’t going to offer any explanation, too busy chit-chatting with Liz now that they are both sitting closely together in the booth, Max trying to catch the waitress’ attention to order a new round. “What about you? Work or pleasure?”

It seems that playing nonchalant around the only person who’s ever made his heart flutter in all the right places comes easily to Michael. He even dares to wink flirtatiously, a remnant of the persona he puts up around everyone just in case anyone tries to crack his armor and reach his core.

“Bit of both,” Alex replies, seemingly unaffected by Michael’s stance. “I work as a consultant for some companies in the Boston area, including some of the universities.”

“Don’t get him started on his job,” Liz interrupts. “Alex can get _really_ intense about computers.”

“As if you don’t get riled up about biomedical science,” Alex jabs back, poking at her arm across the table. Michael can see a flicker of pride in his eyes before they dull back to the sadness Michael’s noticed before. The waitress finally arrives to take down their command, Michael ordering a new beer while Max decides on another glass of white wine, and Alex chooses to start with margaritas. They talk around the drinks for a while, catching up on everything they have missed in the few months they haven’t seen each other, although it’s been more for some of them – Michael doesn’t think he could ever catch up on whatever Alex has been doing this past decade, mainly because Alex keeps just downing margarita after margarita, Michael loses count, as the rest talk and talk while getting increasingly drunk by the second. Michael sticks to beer, watching as the rest slowly get more intoxicated.

“So, Elizabeth,” Alex begins teasingly, after a couple of hours. “It’s not often you travel all the way up to Massachusetts. I’m intrigued.”

“Aren’t we all,” Isobel squints her eyes towards the only happy couple in their table, until a glint of something flashes before her eyes. “Oh my,” she half whispers. 

“Uhm, we, ah,” Max begins, suddenly nervous and fiddling with his glass. “I actually-”

“Are you going to form a complete sentence or do we have to guess?” Michael says playfully.

“He proposed,” Liz comes to the rescue, placing her right hand on top of Max’s over the table as she lifts her left one to show a simple white gold band with a small zirconia embedded in it. “I said yes.”

Even as she’s just plainly announcing their engagement, with no fanfare or fuss, Michael can see the happiness in her eyes and the pride in Max’s stance as he clings to her. Isobel needs only a second before fussing all over Liz, already planning for a big bachelorette party as Michael tunes her out. “Congrats, man,” he tells Max, reaching out and smacking him lightly on the arm. “You’re going to be a married old man in no time!”

“You’re next!” Max jokes back. 

Michael rolls his eyes. “I should find someone to propose before marrying, shouldn’t I?” 

At his left side, Alex Manes, who has tensed up visibly for a second, relaxes enough to offer his congratulations to both Max and Liz before excusing himself and standing up in a wobbly manner, all but running towards the bathroom. Isobel frowns at his back as he retreats; Michael grabs his beer and knocks it back down, witnessing as Liz and Max exchange a knowing look. Max excuses himself and follows Alex. 

Michael’s gaze trails after Max before setting back on Liz, who’s once again showing her engagement ring to Isobel. Her eyes catch his, and she shakes her head, but Michael can see the worry in them before she turns fully to Isobel and starts talking about the wedding once again.


	2. something in the tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _maybe i'm just being blinded by the brighter side_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and summary from _Bruises_ by Lewis Capaldi. 
> 
> This is written for the [Roswell New Mexico Week](https://roswellnewmexicoweek.tumblr.com/post/184757488673/welcome-to-roswell-new-mexico-week-2019-each-day) over at tumblr, **_Day 6: If I could it all over again (AUs)_**. Again, I have taken several liberties with the prompt.
> 
> **Please take the warnings and tags into account.**

Alex has had one too many margaritas, but he isn't about to slow down. At least, not tonight. Tonight is about letting go and being crazy, wilder than he’s been in a long time. And then there was the announcement, and Alex somehow manages to almost lose it completely in front of everyone – in front of Michael Guerin of all people.

The same Michael Guerin who has been gawking at him the whole night like they are still the foolish teenagers who kissed under the stars in the middle of the desert, like they’re still allowed to _feel_ what they felt when they were seventeen and uncaring – before Michael left for college and Alex had to face his own demons in the form of his father. Before everything exploded, right when he’d turned twenty-one, and Alex escaped Roswell to start anew, wrapped carefully under the protective wings of his older brother Flint, who gave him shelter and a future.

Michael Guerin, who doesn’t know half of what happened to him, but who’s staring at Alex as though not a single second has passed. Michael Guerin, who’s making Alex feel like seventeen again, believing that anything can happen if he just wished for it strong enough.

It’s been a long time since he believed in fairy tales.

“Stupid, stupid Manes,” he chides his reflection, eyes bloodshot and weary as he stares back at himself. “Get your act together.” 

The door to the bathroom swings open, a man saunters in, walking past him without so much as a glance before entering one of the stalls. Alex goes back to staring at his reflection, keeping his pain concealed behind a mask as he feels the door opening again, this time it’s Max who enters. 

“Alex,” he says softly. Alex can tell the moment Max takes in his appearance – the pink blotches under his eyes, the weariness, the tremble in his hands that isn't stopped by the white-knuckled grip he has on the porcelain. “Are you alright?” 

“I will be,” Alex promises. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. You should be out there celebrating with your fiancée. I’ll be back in no time.” 

“You know I’m not going anywhere without you,” Max speaks softly. Alex begins to shake his head, opens his mouth to apologize once again, but no sounds comes out. He just grips the sink tighter. “Take your time, but maybe it’ll help if you use your words.”

Alex has to stifle a hysterical laugh that catches in the back of his throat, choking him. He's been using his words for so long, and it’s only ever resulted in heartache. “I just need a second. I wasn’t expecting the news, you’ve caught me by surprise, that’s all.” 

Max searches his face; Alex feels himself standing in front of one of his oldest acquaintances, raw and open, wounds throbbing, gaping. He wishes, not for the first time, that he’d run away from Roswell at eighteen, just him and his guitar and his music, instead of staying and allowing his whole existence be dictated by someone else. 

“Sorry,” Max finally whispers, a hand reaching out to cover Alex’s on the sink. “We didn’t think. We should have told you beforehand, in a safe space.”

Alex shakes his head. For the longest time he’s hidden in his own pain, away from everything and everyone who reminded him of a past he will never forget, and he’s stopped caring about what his friends might need. “You can’t keep walking on eggshells around me, Max,” he retaliates. His hands still shake, but underneath Max’s grip Alex finds himself stilling slowly. “I’m a grown up. And I’m happy for you. I should get out there and tell Liz.” 

Max tightens his fingers around Alex’s for a second. “Are you sure? We can stay here for as long as you need.” 

"We don't have that long to wait," Alex confesses, wryly, "You know that. Just let me get over myself, I'll be out in a minute." Max allows him a bit of space for him to collect himself; with a last glance to his own reflection, Alex peels himself off the sink and nods at Max, signaling to the door and following Max outside. The noise of the bar deafens him again, and for that Alex is grateful, because he needs something, _anything_ , to dull the throbbing in his head that painkillers can never seem to touch.

At their table, Liz looks up from her conversation with Isobel, her apology written across her eyes. Alex dismisses her with a small smile as he sits next to Michael again, Max slipping in close to Liz. “Are you okay?” she asks softly. 

“I will be,” he reassures her. Not wanting to dwell further in his own agony, he leans into the table and asks affectionately, “So, have you decided on a date yet?” 

He ignores the pointed look Michael’s throwing his way, trying to focus on the words Liz is currently using to explain their plan to get married by the end of the summer in the backyard of the ranch they live in. Alex has missed so much the past months in his haste to flee Roswell and leave everything, and every _one_ , behind. 

“Let me know if you need any recs for catering,” he quips when Liz starts talking about how difficult it is to find someone to cater for their reception that won't fight them over their needs for special lactose-free options. “I have a few names still that you could call, and you know the ones I hired didn't have a problem creating a special menu for Rosa and Maria.”

Alex can tell the moment when both Isobel Evans and Michael Guerin realize what he meant with his words. “Wait,” Isobel interrupts, hand outstretched and eyes wide, “Have you organized a wedding before?” 

Max makes a hushing sound, but Alex shakes his head and fakes a calm he doesn’t feel when he replies, “Nah, just got married once.” His breath comes out ragged and stuttery, but he keeps going. “Turns out he wasn’t the kind of guy to stick around.” 

“Alex,” Liz’s voice is loaded with the same anguish heʼs feeling. His hands are trembling, fingers barely grasping his cocktail glass, instead tapping a nervous staccato against the crystal. 

“Don't,” he cuts her off. “Just let me know if you need anything.” 

Thereʼs a pregnant pause before Isobel frowns playfully and swats at his hand across the table. “Are you trying to take my place as Wedding Planner Extraordinaire?” 

They all laugh; Alex feels lighter, albeit still nervous. 

It's the first time he acknowledges part of what happened, and it’s to one of his best friends and a bunch of acquaintances from back home he hasn’t seen in a lifetime. Saying the words out loud, letting the world know he was married, past tense, shouldn’t feel like a heavy load has been taken from his shoulders. 

For a second he thinks he’s suffocating, and the next he’s able to breathe again. 

He remembers everything – the wedding day and his nerves about saying _I do_ to Dan who he thought had been the love of his life, the words belittling whatever achievement Alex had reached during that last job that took him across the country, the long nights spent in solitude because _Dan_ couldn’t come back home to his _husband_ , too engrossed in whatever drinking game _Dan_ had been entertaining with his friends at the local pub, the darkness betraying him when _Dan_ would come back home, horny and hard and willing even if Alex hadn’t been ready. He remembers the yells, the pain inflicted by every syllable pronounced in disdain and contempt, the criticism whenever Alex showed _Dan_ his newest song. Alex remembers everything, down to every detail, to every moment he’d held his breath, wishing, _hoping_ , that the pain would ease if he just remained still and willed the ache away.

Alex remembers not feeling anything at all, and then feeling everything _too much_ , until it all fell apart and he had to run from his home, his family, his _life_. He sighs, almost imperceptibly. 

_Dan_ doesn’t deserve even a thought; not after having signed the papers Alex filed _his_ way faster than a shark attack.

It’s been over a year now, and it still stings.

Across the table, Liz smiles reassuringly at him before resuming her chit chat with Isobel. Max shrugs at the girls and takes another sip of his beer. By his side, Michael is staring at him openly. He’s the only one who hasn’t reacted yet, and Alex isn’t sure if he wants Michael to. 

“Are you okay?” Michael whispers, leaning into his personal space without actually touching him. Alex bites back a flinch before turning to Michael.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Michael retaliates, pushing a fresh beer his way. “Here, seems like you need it.”

“I don’t want to mix,” Alex says, but he grabs the bottle. He knows he doesn’t need any more alcohol, but he isn’t driving home tonight since his apartment isn’t too far from the pub. He picks up the bottle and sips form it, earning a hearty laugh from Michael. He looks around, noticing that no one’s paying attention to him – the world hasn’t ended when he confessed he was married, and the rest of his group is focusing on the more pressing matter of Liz and Max’s upcoming wedding, so it’s just him and Michael. They engage in soft and light banter, joking about the wedding and the looks Max and Liz share while Isobel fakes gagging. 

“I’m dead on my feet,” Michael announces when Alex is halfway through his beer. “I think I’ll leave. D’you wanna come with me? I can give you a ride home.”

It takes Alex a second to realize Michael’s talking to him, because the other man’s gesturing about the table where no one else is paying them attention. “Oh, I think I’ll leave too, but I live really close by,” he says. “I don’t need a ride.”

“Would you mind me walking you home?” Michael insists; Alex doesn’t understand where it’s coming from, but he finds himself nodding in agreement. “We’re leaving,” Michael says to the ensemble, although none of them seem to be listening. “Oh, c’mon, Manes, we’re not going to be missed. See you tomorrow!”

Alex squeezes Liz’s arm over the table, effectively catching her attention long enough to bid her farewell before following Michael through the crowd and outside the pub. Michael’s waiting for him by the door, back against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he plays with the lighter. It makes Alex wonder when Michael picked up the habit. “Are you ready? You have to show me the way.”

“You really don’t have to walk me to my apartment,” Alex jokes. “I’m not a damsel, and this _isn’t_ a date.”

“It isn’t,” Michael deadpans, staring into his eyes as if searching for answers. “I’m just making sure you’re making it safely home. Liz would have my head on a platter if you didn’t.”

“Honestly, Guerin, I’m thankful, but when has she-I don’t-”

“Right about the time you freaked out and fled,” Michael explains. “She was talking about how they’re staying at a hotel because they didn’t want to bother Isobel or me, or you, and then she said that maybe this isn’t the best timing at all for you.”

“I’m killing her,” Alex grits out. “She has no-”

“She hasn’t said anything,” Michael defends his best friend. “She’s just worried about you. You had a panic attack in the middle of a pub. I don’t care if you want to talk about it or not, but I’m going to take you back home in one piece.”

Alex nods slightly. He knows Liz means well, but she can’t control everything. She can’t go around spilling his secrets. 

“She didn’t,” Michael frowns; Alex realizes he’s been thinking out loud. “She just said you’ve had a rough time, and that she didn’t think this announcement through. Given that you basically just confessed to being divorced, I don’t think she was too far off.”

“It’s none of your business.” Alex doesn’t want to talk about any of this, and he doesn’t want to share his thoughts with Michael Guerin of all people. Still he starts walking and doesn’t stop Guerin when he follows. 

They walk a few steps in silence, Alex leading the way while Michael tries to keep up pace. About five minutes into their stroll, a couple of blocks away from the pub, Michael reaches out and catches Alex’s arm, forcing him to turn around.

“I don’t care that you’re divorced,” he states, staring into Alex’s eyes as if they hold all the secrets in the universe. “I don’t care _at all_. I’m sorry he wasn’t the kind of guy to be trusted.”

“Oh, he really wasn’t,” Alex shakes his head. “But it’s all in the past. We should leave it there.”

“There are some things I don’t know if I want to keep in the past,” Michael whispers, leaning closer into Alex’s personal space, so close that Alex has to suppress the shudder that crawls up his spine. “I thought I was over-whatever it was-you know. But-”

“It’s like being seventeen again,” Alex blurts, unable to stop himself. “I look at you and everything else-disappears.”

“Can we-I don’t know-maybe-meet up-” Michael fights for words, gesturing between them.

“No,” he refuses. “Don’t ever go _there_.”

“I’m trying to ask you out on a coffee date,” Michael defends himself. “For the sake of old times. Don’t even have to be a date. Just two old friends getting together after a while.”

“You and I were never meant to be _friends_ ,” Alex concedes after a beat. He looks down at his hands before making up his mind.

It’s been too long since he enjoyed something that was only for himself. Maybe he needs to loosen up a bit. Maybe he needs to stop looking so hard into things. Maybe this is just one old friend asking for a chance to catch up.

He knows that's not the case, they've never been _just friends_ , the situation's precarious between them and he's teetering on a ledge, glass hearts bared and feelings sparking between their fingertips like lightning underneath the starry sky. Alex takes a breath and jumps despite the fear.

“What about tomorrow morning? There’s this little coffee shop by the Institute I’ve been dying to try for a while now.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight thirty,” Michael promises, and Alex smiles softly.

It’s a quiet walk back to his apartment after that, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Alex finds himself relaxing enough to not think of other nights, other moments in time when another man walked him home, instead focusing on Michael’s breathing by his side, the occasional brush of fingers against fingers, the bubbling feeling of _rightness_ in his soul.


End file.
